


The Crossroads of Destiny

by cerisebio, zuzusexytiems



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, I know it seems hella heavy but there's going to be lots of fluffy inserts in between, I promise, M/M, Sort Of, There's a war, Victor is a waterbender who can only bend ice, Viktuuri Fluff Bang 2019, Yuuri is the Avatar, avatar AU, legend of korra AU, nobody dies i promise, oh and whump, probably lots of whump too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 14:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerisebio/pseuds/cerisebio, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuzusexytiems/pseuds/zuzusexytiems
Summary: In a war-torn land once ruled by the elements, the existence of the Avatar has turned into mere legend. Victor Nikiforov, a waterbender on the run from Equalist rule, knows that there has to be more to life than living each day just to survive.In a hidden laboratory underneath the forests of the Earth Kingdom, he meets Katsuki Yuuri-- a peculiar test subject on a mission to recover his past.They meet on a cold, December evening, and nothing is ever the same.





	The Crossroads of Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Me and @cerisebio's entry for Viktuuri Fluff Bang 2019!
> 
> Before anything else, I'd like to thank the mods of the Bang who have been so patient with the release of this fic. So much has been going on IRL, and this year hasn't exactly been as kind as I'd hoped it would be. The mods have been so understanding and were such a huge help in guiding the participants through all of this; their dedication towards organizing this event has been nothing short of amazing. Thank you so, so much.
> 
> Second, I'd like to thank @cerisebio hereself, the amazing artist who created the accompanying art for this story! Please go check out the rest of her work. You can follow her work on her Twitter as well. :D
> 
> Lastly, to anyone who happens to be reading this right now-- Thank you! Writing this fic has been such an important part of my 2019, and while it's far from done and definitely needs more fluffing up, it has kept me sane for the most of the year. So thank you so much-- it means more than words can express.
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy the Crossroads of Destiny!

* * *

**Prologue**

“Listen,” Victor says as he takes Yuuri’s hands in his. They’re rough and calloused, tiny scars adorning his arms from his time in the laboratory.

Victor thinks they’re beautiful all the same, kisses the parts where the small specks of flesh are marred with jagged white.

“What?” Yuuri laughs, and Victor reaches out to him, tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear.

Having his heart beat this fast because of a boy is such a foreign feeling, Victor realizes. It’s quite different from when it’s pounding against your ears because somebody is out to get you, different when you’re not on high alert looking out for booby traps hidden in the ground.

He feels every beat, every pulse of it flowing through him, and he embraces it.

He feels like home.

“We’re going to come out of this alive. I promise you,” He says, and he means it. He and Yuuri raise their palms together, and the soft glow emanates from Victor’s hands, sealing the promise as he places a kiss on Yuuri’s lips. “Okay?”

“Okay."

 

****

 

**Book 1: Water  
Chapter 1**

 

“So,” Yura starts, the sound of the “o” dragging against the crackling of the fire before them. Victor raises a brow, tries to figure out what it is Yura’s done this time. The only other instance he’s dragged his _o’s_ out for this long was when he’d accidentally burned the last of their rations two years ago, and Victor can’t think of anything worse than that.

There’s a couple of seconds that pass before Yura finally spits it out. He bites his lip, awkwardly playing around with his fingers: “Are you gonna eat that, or what?”

Victor chuckles, shakes his head in relief before throwing over the last piece of his skewered rabbit-boar towards Yura. “I was going to. Never really been a huge fan of rabbit-boar, anyway.”

Victor knows that’s a lie.

To his right, crouched against a hard rock, Yakov Feltsman knows it, too.

The old man lets out a sigh, loud enough that Victor has to wonder if it could have given away their location. There’s a lecture coming up from Yakov and he knows it: The same song of how _You should stop spoiling him Vitya._ Or of how _you’re injured and you need to eat, Vitya_ . Or how _you should start looking after yourself more if you’d like to survive to see the end of this war, Vitya_.

But Victor sees Yura digging into the meat with a sense of urgency, his hands shaking against the skewer like he hasn’t had a decent meal in days--because he hasn’t-- and Victor thinks that if a lack of rabbit-boar consumption was how he was going to meet his end, then maybe it would be alright.

There’s another sigh that comes from Yakov, like he’s just read Victor’s thoughts; they’ve known each other long enough that it might have just been the case. Victor tries to dismiss it, playing around with the poultice tightened across his ankle instead.

“He is injured, Yurotchka,” Yakov says sternly, eyes never leaving the fire. “You’ve had your share of the ration.”

“I told you,” Victor tries to reply nonchalantly, flashing Yakov a perfectly practiced smile, one that neither of them are buying: “I’m not that into rabbit-boar anyway. What are our plans for tomorrow?”

At this, Yakov shoots him a look, the scary ones he used to give Vitya as a child. If Victor had anything more to say, or if Yura had another jab queued up waiting to be bluntly delivered, they’ve all gone through the door and down the drain.

“Survive.” Yakov says simply.

Without another word, he stands, and with a swipe of his hand, the earth from underneath his feet come alive. He’s bent another makeshift tent again, but this time its edges are jagged and rigid, far from the sharp, precise ones he usually creates.

This is the exact moment that Victor Nikiforov realizes that Yakov Feltsman isn’t getting any younger, how between the two of them, it’s probably the latter that might not survive long enough to see the end of this war.

He wants to make sure that doesn’t happen.

But at present, Victor’s ankle is aching and he hasn’t had enough dinner, and so he shrugs the thought off for a different day, ignores Yura’s rambling (“You _gave_ me the damned rabbit boar! You said it was alright!”) and retreats to his ragged sleeping bag while trying to figure out how to position his bad leg.

After all, he thinks, he needs to rest up if he plans to infiltrate the Equalist docks again on the full moon.

“Victor.”

He’s dreaming about home, safe and warm and full of life, and he wants to stay in that place a little longer, wants to curl up in it until he can’t tell the difference between untruth and the reality of this scalding hot desert anymore, but someone is shaking him awake and he wants them to go away.

“Victor. Wake up.”

“No,” Victor whines before pulling up the sleeping bag over himself. It’s too late when he realizes it’s a terrible idea for two reasons: One, the heat is even more insane under a sheet of cloth, and if it weren’t for the humid air soughing against his face, he’d have thought he was inside an actual oven. Two, the abrupt movement shakes his bad leg, and the pain that seizes through him is nauseating. He breathes in sharply, cursing the spirits.

“Idiot,” Yura scoffs, but helps Victor untangle himself from the sleeping bag anyway. He positions the older man’s leg properly, carefully propping him up on his shoulders with a scowl.

For as long as Victor’s known him, Yura has always been a boy full of contradictions. A while back, Victor had decided that he liked that about him.

“I wish you’d just heal your damn self like every other normal waterbender,” Yura says.

And just like that, Victor realizes his feelings towards Yura are just as contradictory-- because now he wants to punch him.

“Well I’m not _like_ any other waterbender,” Victor raises his voice, shooting him a look, and since Yura’s just hit a nerve, Victor decides to hit one, too: “Why don’t _you_ do it, then?”

Yura falls silent.

Victor thinks this is what having siblings must be like. In a different headspace, one farther from this universe, he imagines himself living a life without war: He’s coming home from school, or from work-- he doesn’t care which-- and as he sets his bag down the table. Yura’s helping Yakov prepare dinner, food that isn’t stolen, food that isn’t rationed by the centimeter to make sure they survive into the next day.

He suddenly regrets saying anything to Yura now.

“I can’t bend,you idiot.” Yura says, eyes drifting towards the ground now. Victor wants it to swallow him whole, but he doesn’t want to hurt his pride either.

“Should’ve thought about that before being an asshole.” Victor scoffs back. He rarely curses if he can help it, but decides the situation calls for it. “You have a good reason for waking me up, I’m hoping.”

“Maybe,” Yura says, producing a brown paper bag and shoving it into Victor’s arms. He’s trying to avoid eye contact now and is subsequently failing. “Took a walk and came across a flea market south from here, around a mile away.”

“A flea-- What?” Victor asks, incredulous. “Yura, do you know how dangerous that is, showing up like that somewhere? If they find you, they’ll--”

“But they didn’t.” Yura cuts off, rolling his eyes at Victor, who’s about to throw a fit in frustration. “Besides, I wasn’t named the Northern Water Tribe’s Finest Sleuth for nothing.”

“You gave yourself that nickname a month ago.”

“Just shut up and just open the bag, old man.”

He does, and when he unfurls the paper, there’s a slab of meat sitting atop a banana leaf, the aroma stopping his train of thought. It isn’t in its best condition, and it looks like it’s about to go stale, but even so, Victor couldn’t help but pull Yura into a hug.

“I shouldn’t have taken it last night. Your rabbit-boar. I’m sorry, Vitya.”

Victor shushes him, tells Yura he doesn’t want to hear it. They end up splitting the meat, and the next half hour is spent with the two of them exchanging old stories from the Water Tribes, all bitter words and bickering left forgotten.

He’s never had a brother, but he’s pretty sure that Yuri Plisetsky is as close as he can get. He wouldn’t have it any other way, either.

Biting into the stale rabbit boar, Victor swears it tastes better than any meal he’s ever eaten.

 


End file.
